


Lions Lie Down

by f_m_r_l



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_m_r_l/pseuds/f_m_r_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World peace has implications that Sherlock hadn't even begun to foresee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lions Lie Down

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to unsettled for betaing in the face of a busy holiday schedule, kinkmemers for remembering details I hadn't, and foes of reality for her eagle eyes.

On December 21st, 2010, "World Peace" broke out.

Nobody could explain it, although there were herds of social scientists, philosophers, religious leaders, science fiction writers, and assorted other groups attempting to do so. At the time the total lunar eclipse began, the world was involved in countless wars, great and small. By the end of the eclipse those wars were over except the signing of the treaties. No coherent force was waging war on any other entity. None had since.

This is not to say that the world immediately attained an ideal and blissful harmony. Entire industries collapsed under the burden of warlessness, taking the livelihood of their workers along with them. Cutthroat diplomacy continued, despite losing one of its tools. Power balances were thrown into turmoil. The world economy was profoundly affected. People continued to do horrific things to each other, individually and collectively. But none of those things were war.

After the frantic, extended rush to stabilize matters had ended, Mycroft discovered world peace had freed up twenty minutes a day in his schedule. He knew exactly how to use it. After all, it was crucial to make time for family.

* * *

"Put that down. That's no way to handle a firearm," Sherlock growled. This visit, Mycroft had been shooting at the wall, muttering about being bored. But he was smirking — Sherlock could deduce it without the slightest glance. And he had the nerve to be a better shot than Sherlock was.

Sherlock had eventually conceded that there was no way he could keep Mycroft out of the flat. He had even come to acknowledge that it was impossible to dodge Mycroft's visits by being out of the flat at the right time, unless he wanted to vacate the flat entirely. Even then, it would all just start over in a new flat. Mycroft couldn’t be avoided, but Sherlock could at least turn his back to the big pest. He'd stacked a pile of books on the desk behind his laptop and John’s, one tall enough to be seen over the screens, and balanced a dangerous and possibly illegal flask of mercury on top. It provided a handy reflective surface so he could see everything else in the room. It might even prove useful for something else someday. 

"Besides," Sherlock continued, "it's John's gun. Play with your own weapons."

"John, if Sherlock could spare you until his next little... adventure, perhaps you come with me to a more discreet location and show me how to handle your gun." Mycroft practically radiated a certain kind of smugness, showing he knew how much that was going to get under Sherlock's skin. He fired a few more shots into the wall, finishing off his picture of an open umbrella before handing the gun back to John. John half smiled, set his tea cup aside for a moment, and silently took the gun. He made sure it was completely unloaded and put it away without comment. Then he continued on with his tea.

"Don't you have enough to do, Mycroft?" Sherlock did not deign to look at Mycroft, not wanting to make the man seem in any way welcome. He stared intently into the screens before him. Both John's and his computer displayed a great many scrolling numbers. When the occasional prompt would interrupt, Sherlock typed so quickly that there barely seemed to be a gap before the numbers were scrolling once again. "John, go invade Germany or something. That should keep my brother occupied elsewhere with something other than chocolates."

"We don't invade foreign countries anymore. Bad form." John appeared calmly amused, not even looking up from his tea.

"Then invade Mycroft!" Sherlock hurled back.

The look John and Mycroft exchanged made Sherlock blanch and then blush, even though he could only see their faces reflected in the mercury. This couldn't be happening. It was intolerable. He had to separate the two. "Mycroft, your assistant has something on your calendar. John, we're out of milk."

John sighed, rolled his eyes, and gulped his tea. He paused just a moment to look down at the cups, saucers, and smattering of crumbs. John was thinking, Sherlock decided, that there would be enough time to clean up the cups and so forth when he got home from the shops — provided Sherlock hadn't done something to them, first. Sherlock mentally digressed to ponder whether or not he did want to do something with the teacups. John headed towards the door.

Mycroft rested his hand carefully and precisely at the small of John's back, steering John gently towards their mutual destination. "I can give you a ride at least as far as Tesco's. And I know of a shooting range in the country near an absolutely lovely estate. Are you free next weekend?"

John looked as though he were seriously considering it. Sherlock couldn't hear John's answer as the door closed behind them. He got back to work on the computers. There had to be a way to solve this World Peace situation.


End file.
